The Courts HarleyQuinn
by Gleadr
Summary: After the Joker is sent to Arkham Asylum for evaluation he must endure the dull grey institute, but the boredom may be alleviated in one Harleen Quinzel, he just needs to convince her to come along for the ride.


Hello, this is my first ever fanfic and I hope you enjoy it, any input is useful and I'm hoping to add more if all goes well, any comments are welcome and I'll take any advice into consideration. Thank you :)

**Disclaimer, I do not own the rights to any Batman characters, all within this story are personal interpretations.**

The world span and twisted within the endless confines of the man's mind, the room he sat in long forgotten, various faces, actions, places melded together into a barely cohesive mess where none seemed connected but for the consciousness that controlled it. The Joker's eyes were closed as he explored his world, the puckered scarring extending from his twitching lips to only half an inch from each ear giving the constant expression of glee while he eyes roamed ceaselessly beneath their lids. He sat in a chair made of hard steel where each ankle was chained (not cuffed) to each front leg, between his knees rested his hands, manacled by the wrists to fasten through a loop on the tarnished steel table.

He was hardly an image of his former self at a glance, he was slightly slouched and his pale green hair was matted against his skull, it looked greasy and sickly in the meagre light. The faded light blue jumpsuit he was forced into used to be a pleasing colour to calm inmates but after decades of filth and industrial washing had turned an awful grey which was baggy on the Joker's tall, thin frame.

The room he sat in was bleak to say the least, the enclosure was set up for interrogation regardless of the fact it was within an asylum established to 'fix' and 'help' the inmates, and he found it exhausting to see so much dull greyness, sighing often for a splash of colour. The Joker had sat in the same room a lot since he came to Arkham Asylum, while at first he found the sessions with the psychiatrists attempting to diagnose him (and shoot their career's forward in the process) quite hilarious, however, it eventually became dull like everything else in the institution. It took quite a few 'demonstrations' for the attendees to learn just how truly dangerous he was, the first one leaving after about twenty minutes when the Joker got bored and drove a pen through their hand owing to the fact they'd only put him in hand and ankle cuffs to secure him. He whooped with laughter for a straight five minutes as he was dragged roughly to his cell and threatened with sedation which only made him double over.

The asylum had held the Joker for the past month and he had gone through twelve individuals attempting to 'help' him, a few of which were so called specialists in criminals of an extreme nature, and none lasted more than two sessions. So he sat and waited for the next lamb to wander in so he could dismantle them without taking his mind off his schemes, he'd never given full attention to much since he arrived and while he could leave at any point his gut told him to wait, so on a whim he remains until the missing piece of his puzzle comes together.

He barely twitched but for his already moving lips as the sound of metal scraping on concrete squealed through the room, the sound didn't even seem to register as the heavy door was slowly shut again and he took a second to pay vague attention. He made no move to indicate he was aware of the presence that stood near the door studying him apprehensively for a moment, in that moment his nostrils flared ever so slightly as he sniffed the air, a great grin spread over his lips which was only aided by his scars. He spoke to someone for the first time in days but his voice did not crack or falter as it taunted to across the room.

"This really _is_ a new low for this place," He hissed the words and flicked his tongue with pleasant surprise across his lips, "Oh tell me sweet Doc, how ya gonna_ fix_ me this time?" His eyes snapped open, palpable glee dripped from his words, the girl across the room felt as though she had been punched in the chest as she saw the most terrifying thing the Joker had to offer. His eyes were so vacantly intense, the black irises melding into his pupils which burned with such hunger, such careless temptation that the word transfixed was barely enough to describe the breathless shock that struck the young Doctor. The Joker waited for her to move but when she only stared he realised two things, she was sizing him up almost as he had done to her in only a second, and she was the epitome of cute innocence with blonde hair and blue eyes, a grin strapped itself across his face as she spoke.

"I'm Doctor Harleen Quinzel, and I'm here to try and diagnose you." She attempted to hide her Queens accent but under the sheer stress of being near the mass-murderer it seeped through almost unrestrained, it was an attempt at professionalism and she winced at it.

"Well then Haaaarrrrllleeeeennnnn," Replied the Joker, stretching the name, rolling it around his mouth without ever looking away from the source, for the first time it was a person that piqued his interest. "Oh please sit down Doc, I'm sure you're _dying_ to pick my brain." His grin somehow widened and the vacant gaze seemed to focus in on her as he inclined his head to the chair opposite him.

So he watched her carefully, looking up and down, almost shivering in anticipation as he felt wave after wave of ideas flood into his mind, the thoughts almost made him pay attention but that wasn't something he ever gave except for the unique. The Joker flicked his tongue over his lips which made her steps falter yet again, she was petite but that only made him lightly chuckle to himself, all the better to strike a pose.

_Oh this will be fun._


End file.
